All poems displayed here are my copyright and have been published - some many years ago!!!
by Christine Michael
A CLUMSY POEM
I will clumsily write myself a poem
in language loose as days
a jelly of a poem plopped
on a plate from a mould manufactured
out of plastic
sure as industry.
My jelly poem will wobble
topped by ice-cream
for a moment
like language
in an era
that forgets
about melting moments
and mixing
the transparency of words
jargonned for control
the power of setting
words held together
by molecules of meaning
gelled coloured
flavoured
for instant delight!
originally published by POETRY NOW
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
AGAINST MONUMENTS
It is fixed - the compass will not move
as surely as i sit here
time has slotted me in
Like an arrow i accompany one bow
thrust through my-one-time
i pursue my target
I eat scrambled egg made for me at this moment
the coffee in the pot is hot
traffic businesses itself to work
I chase life like an athlete with odd socks
write poems in huddled corners
lock myself in bathrooms
Monuments real and made of stone
bear flags outside windows
touched by many hands
I cannot shift to lift these stones
who make ants of us
only one time can i tell
originally published by OPEN UNIVERSITY POETS MAGAZINE
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
AND BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS
And answers lie in dreams to telepathise reducing pain xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
and the many misunderstandings of the night.
They boil - these earthlings - bathe in blood - manifest the
tension of the ground
Bury their thoughts in bones and rocks, erupt with
white-hot heat, mushroom-clouded,
And I dream of some other night where sleep may take
starved peoples feeding them
Where all poverties are nourished by the healing power of poetry
words reaching all depths,
And the peace-makers earth-grown deny not their roots
but bloom their sharing,
And hands touch liberated without shame -
black, female, leprous
And the glow forces from within -inner resources
push creative eruptions
And blessed are the peacemakers - children dancing
sing at the celeidh - uniting
And all sacrifices buried for the new beginning -
love-mutants creating.
from the collection 'Who Made the Rainbow?'
cassette:- ISBN 1 900410 20 6
CD:- ISBN 1 900410257
A HOPE PACKAGE
In the crowd, one voice dared
To ask for a dream - a hope-package
Sterilised against the gauze of human nature.
A stream flowed past the scene
Of this extraordinary wanting -
The tireless trickle of fresh spring water.
It was unconsciously noticed by all -
The cleansing - from a source beneath surfaces,
A pool in a rock-centre, pushing through cracks.
For in the most surprising places
force through the flow,
The hope, the magnificence of life.
published by Poetry Now
We Children
The cock extends his neck to crow his existence
Over fields and properties; all his world is crowned
With blood-red head. His hens peck seeds
And in the hedge poppies flutter among weeds.
The drake pokes through the wire and pecks
Violently with his beak into such foreign feathers
Arrogantly displayed. The ducks lay eggs
Big as luxury breakfasts.
Mother didn't eat much during the war but we,
We were evacuated to this country den,
Comfortable as an earthy nest
With another mother looking after us.
Put the ducks among the chickens and there is mayhem,
They will not share territory; spread their mess
Everywhere. We children got to know them
One by one and gave them special names.
One day a pack of dogs scattered their feathers
Around the fields; blood and bones lay mangled
Like the tangled rag-bag of war, and we,
We children remembered them all by name.
from 'Who Made the Rainbow?' album of poems and songs - copyright Christine Michael
CD - ISBN - 1900410257
cassette - ISBN - 19004 1020 6